Stetson Man'
by VanyaElda
Summary: Lorne patches up a drunk and surly Lindsey who got in a bar fight across town to make himself feel better. One shot.


There were times when even I hated women and the things they did to me and my fellow brethren. It was sick the way they led us on with the damsel act only to send our hearts through the fucking thresher.

Darla was dying. She was dying and I had run out of answers. So, where had she fled to? Straight into the arms of that lumbering gel-head. Holland had warned me to not get too close, but I couldn't help myself. Darla was...hell, I couldn't even describe was she really meant to me. And to see her in pain was killing me faster than my insistence on being up to no good. I had risked my neck for her, in more ways than one, but apparently, unless I was six foot and pasty that didn't mean shit.

Damn it. Why did life have to just fucking suck lately?

Angel was the problem here. I loathed the piece of shit. I had been brooding over this for days and I was really starting to piss myself off with all this emotional shit that came up every time I got another test back telling me the same as the eight before it: Darla was dying. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

It had called for drastic measures to get me out of this funk.

So, there I was, donning my old dusty cowboy hat and boots at some seedy bar that was crawling with demons and creatures of the night. I was also drunk off my ass. I wasn't looking for anymore trouble, really I wasn't. However, I was also not completely abashed to the idea at the moment. It would be a fine ending to this spectacularly shit day.

I smiled warmly at the girl behind the bar before thanking her for the beer and tipping the brim of my hat to her, a clear indicator that I had sucked down too many that night. She gave me a bashful smile of her own as she moved down the bar to a demon with blue horns on either side of his head that had beckoned her. As she leaned on the bar to talk to him, she cast me a flirty glance and her long rat-like tail flicked the air behind her. Chuckling, I looked away to nurse my beer.

"Oh, a Stetson Man..." I heard a deep voice crack under breath to my right as something big took a seat next to me. This drew hyena-like giggles from elsewhere.

"Can I help you?" I drawled as I turned to see what spineless son-of-a-bitch wanted a round with the human this time.

The demon was big with a wash of scales and no neck, not to mention the serpent-like slits of yellow eyes that blinked back at me. The guy was also as orange as a redhead who had wrestled a bottle of sunless tanner and lost.

"I think the better question is: can _I_ help _you_?" was the smug reply. "There is a bar for you cowboys down the street. Even have a nice little toothless whore as the waitress. Country boy like you might appreciate it." There was a smattering of snickers from big-n-beefy's friends, the short and goblin-looking purple ones cowering at his backside.

"You sayin' I don't belong in here?" I challenged with a quirk of my brow.

The demon's eyes, all three of them, flashed with humor. "Last thing I expected to see when I came in here tonight was a Texas pretty boy and his pretty little hat," he growled.

My eyes narrowed. Normally, I didn't give a shit what others said to me at this bar as most of them usually weren't quaint with humans and this sure as shit wasn't Caritas, but I was in one hell of a bad mood and damn it, I was drunk. I could use a good fight after this crap day. Heck, this crap week. I'd be damned if I took the high road to this piece of shit.

"Say it again," I spat at the bastard as I stood and practically tossed the stool away from me.

The demon's smiled widened to reveal both sets of slimy teeth. He stood as well and elicited a series of grunts. Those who understood the demonic language snickered. I, however, wasn't laughing. The smug look on the idiot's face suggested that he assumed I had not a clue what he had just said. That would be a wrong assumption of course.

Rising up to my full height, which was at least a foot shorter than his, I shot back my own series of clicks and growls. That wiped the smile off the bastard's face and the other patrons who were listening howled in amusement. Next thing I knew, the demon had let out some god-awful screech and I was sailing across the room to land smack with my back to a table of drinks causing the occupants to shout in surprise. I took a moment to swear over my left shoulder which had taken the brunt of the hit and find my feet before I was barreling back towards the orange mountain ready to head-butt the son-of-a-bitch into last week.

---

"Pumpkin, I hate to ask as you look beyond talking, but do you want to explain why you're bleeding out on my bar and making my customers hungry?" Lorne asked in a gentle tone, but his agitation was still evident in the tightness of the words.

I cracked a sheepish smile at my green faced friend, one of the few souls (human or not) that I even chanced calling one. "Caxam demon. Over at Agoen's place on Kimundy. Want me to sing ya a tune?" I asked as pawed for my shot of whiskey with my good hand. My other arm looked like I had carved it up as a special meal for Mr. Gray-and-Pointy who was leering at the smell of the blood from the end of the bar. I had not put a turnicate on the wound because only one-legged dumbasses in the movies did that shit. Not that squeezing off the circulation could have made this situation worse, the demon's saliva was doing a number on the open tissue.

Lorne shook his head slowly. "No need, sweet cheeks. I'm not sure I even want to know why you would provoke a demon who's food pyramid includes the population of Denver as the base." When he pulled back my sleeve to completely expose the gash, I saw him grimace and I smirked. "You really should improve your people skills, cupcake."

"Hey! He started it!" I protested with a laugh before adding under my breath, "And finished it." I glared darkly as I took another shot of the whiskey . "He called me a 'Texas pretty boy', Lorne."

"Sugar plum..." Lorne said gently, "you are a Texas pretty boy."

As if I was suddenly back in grade school, I gave him a grouchy pout. "You know I'm from Oklahoma."

Lorne waved me off and sipped his own drink which looked girly and likely had Seabreeze mixed in. "That doesn't mean you should get close enough to an angry Caxam demon to let him take a bite."

I held up a hand in my defense. "All I did was imply that his mamma's third eye was as crossed as a-," I let loose a series of clicks and grunts from the demonic language as the word didn't translate well into English.

Lorne winced. "Lindsey," he started slowly with a sigh as he opened a bottle of salve that would stop the poison and dabbed a rag to it, "sometimes I begin to wonder how you are still breathing."

"Nine lives, sweet thing," I drawled as I thrust my ravaged arm closer to his face. I would say Lorne went green with the smell of the blood, but the boy can't get much more verdant. He pressed the rag over the bite and a very unmanly yelp jumped from my throat. I swore loudly and beat a fist on the bar as tears stung the back of my eyes. That shit hurt. "Watch it with that," I growled. "If you make me cry like a girl, I may just have to compliment your mama's beard."

And for the first time since I had limped into Caritas that night, I saw a smile creep back onto Lorne's face. "Trust me, blue eyes, she keeps it well groomed."


End file.
